Desires
by singvogel
Summary: In exchange for Cattibrie's life Drizzt has to sacrifice his pride and dignity
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer:       Drizzt etc, all doesn't belong to me

Warning:          Nasty Drizzt hurting (non-con and slash). 

You people will probably kill me for this, but he's so terribly good, it gets boring after a while. 

Desire

I still remember the day I first saw him, white, silky hair framing a beautiful black skinned face and sparkling violet eyes, slender frame illuminated against the sinking sun. I wanted him instantly. But at the same time it was clear that I could never have him. These damn high morals of his prevented even the thought of such a possibility. So I consented myself with watching. Watching and dreaming. 

I suppose you could call this Drow my weakness, he is the only one I will ever be able to claim in such a purely selfish manner, the only one who can bring out the worst in me just by simply existing, tempting me beyond belief. 

After years of watching the opportunity presented itself in the aftermath of a hard won battle. I was astonished how easily he submitted to my blunt request when faced with the fact that she was all but gone after the other mage hit her with his spell. There was nobody else who could possibly hope to complete the task of calling her spirit back from the brink of death. Straight and simple: Your body for her life. 

He was of course disgusted, but agreed eventually and I brought the irritating wench back thereby putting my own life at risk. Perhaps he had half hoped I would die in the process, but I don't die easily. I was surprised when the bitter betrayal in these expressive eyes didn't bother me like it should have. It was his fault after all, being who he is he should have known better than to trust anyone, known better than to trust me only because of my appearance. The fact that I'm a gold elf doesn't mean I can't act selfish or cruel. 

Strange to think that he would do this for the human girl, a girl who will be long dead when he won't even be middle aged. He sacrificed his virginity as well as his pride to save her and I must admit that the thought gives me great satisfaction. To know I was the first to touch him this way, the first who ever made him moan and scream in ecstasy however unwilling it might have been. The remaining picture of golden gliding against ebony skin in the moonlight still makes me shiver at night. Sometimes I wonder if given a similar choice he would do it again. Maybe, I can wait. 

My dark angel, he still comes to visit the city now and then, but only to see the Mistress and I'm back to watching. This time though I have more than dreams. He hates me now for what I did to him, but remembering is so much better than dreaming. There will be no regret on my side. Our dirty little secret: his shame, my pleasure. I'm sure he won't tell anybody what happened during that night. His body, usually under the full control of a trained warrior, let him down and responded to me when it shouldn't have. And I didn't stop even though I could clearly see the emotional anguish I was causing with my actions. I couldn't, I had waited for so long and he had sworn to cooperate and finally fulfil my desires. Of course that didn't keep him from calling me a heartless bastard, but I had expected defiance and somehow this made him even more enticing. 

Many would probably call me evil for enjoying this. I'm not sure if they are right. Is he evil for killing his sister? There are so many shades of grey and maybe I just revealed something he has to see about himself. A part which to this day remains buried deep inside his consciousness. 

I took the last bit of his innocence, and sometimes I like to think that I corrupted him. I find myself laughing inwardly when I hear others praise his goodness and purity, because they don't know. They haven't seen the slut he can be, begging to be fucked because nothing else can end the agony of unfulfilled need. Yes, I made him beg for it, made him need something he doesn't want to acknowledge. But I have seen, I remember and I swear that one day he will come to me willingly, despite the hate, driven solely by his desires. Do you hear me Do'Urden? You will come back. Nobody can be good all the time. 


	2. The other side of the mirror

Disclaimer: Drow, Drizzt everything, not my property. 

A/N: I didn't intend to write more when I posted the first chapter, but after some people asked interesting questions the idea of trying to write "the victim side" got stuck in my head. I still won't tell you the other's name though, wouldn't want for anybody to go and harass him.*g* 

Thanks to everybody who reviewed, the comments were surprisingly positive. 

The other side of the mirror

You are in the city once again. Despite his presence and determined not to notice him, because to notice would equal surrender and you would never surrender willingly. But you can feel the hungry gaze of these cold amber eyes on you and it's as if you're naked again with nothing to protect you from the unwanted scrutiny. Even though you try very hard you can't keep yourself from remembering how those cool, slender hands feel on your back, your stomach, sliding between your legs, touching, teasing, violating and you hate yourself almost more than him, for not being able to forget, not being able to block this out, because you should be able to do so, because you've already suffered through things much worse than this. You are no stranger to physical as well as emotional pain. In fact you are quite used to it, have been since the early days of your childhood. 

But this is different somehow, this is pain combined with gentleness. So cruel, nothing could have prepared you for the exquisite torture he bestowed on your unresisting body. No one had ever touched you this way and you had no idea it what it would be like when you agreed. You can still remember the surprise, the cold sense of dread when you realized he was serious in his demands and there was nothing else you could do except to give in, nothing else you could do to bring her back. 

Yes, there was nothing else and so you went to him as you had promised to do. You submitted, not sure of what to expect. And then your body betrayed you and your soul froze in terror and shame when you discovered that he could do what no other had been able to do. He could make you feel, lose control, make you scream and reduce you to begging him to take what you never wanted to give before. Had you known that this would happen would you still have come? 

Yes, but with far more resentment, because now you are scarred forever. You can't look at her without seeing him, without remembering. And that is what pains you most, by bringing her back you have irrevocably lost her. And yet you can't let go, even though sometimes when the pressure becomes too much you flee from her presence, but eventually you will always come back to continue torturing yourself. 

You don't know why you do this, why you are unable to tell her or any of your friends about this. You cringe inwardly seeing the hurt in her eyes when you flinch away from her casual touch. But she can't, she mustn't know. Maybe deep down you realise that your silence is what should concern you most, because you should be able to talk to them. 

What you did was necessary, nothing you need to be ashamed of. The reactions he caused were purely physical and have nothing to do with your personal wishes, or so you tell yourself during your endless wanderings. But even whilst listening to your own litany you are in doubt. What if you are wrong? What if this really is a part of your inner self? He told you so many times, made you doubt and laughed when you protested. But he doesn't know you, does he? 

Now you are trying to hold your life together, to gather the tattered threads of your dignity and you hate him more than you have ever hated anybody before in your life. Sometimes you catch yourself imagining how you hurt him, make him pay and hear him moaning in agony. You can practically see the way his blood would look, running down the smooth golden skin glittering like a ruby in the sun, staining the silky blond hair. 

And then suddenly you notice what it is that you are doing and you feel more frightened than ever before, because you fear that he may have achieved what your mother and all the priestesses of the spider queen couldn't. He may have taken from you everything that you believe in and forever tainted your heart. Turned you into someone you loathe, into a true Drow. 

This fear is the only reason he's still alive, still able to watch, to haunt you. And he is aware of it, you are sure, because you can see the quiet amusement behind that impassive façade, every time you dare to look in his direction. You feel trapped; unable to leave but equally unable to stay, forced to face you inner demons alone with no idea what may come of it. 


	3. Suspicions

Disclaimer: Drizzt, the city and the girl don't belong to me. NO money is made (what a pity)

A/N: Oh, I got such a nice e-mail about this story today, became very happy and finally got around to posting the next part. Sorry for not taking the suggestions into account, but this chapter was already mostly finished. Very interesting though! I'm always open for more. 

Suspicions

She knew that something was wrong, very wrong. Even though he would not tell her, she could now see it clearly in his eyes. The pain he thought well hidden, she had discovered it. It had taken some time, because at first there was not enough to make her suspicious and alert her to his silence. He had never been one to talk much, but when the small signs of distress became more and more she could not ignore them any longer. What had happened that made him seemingly unable to bear her presence? 

She knew she could not confront him straight on. If he had not told her by now he would not want for anybody to find out what it was that troubled him so deeply. It must have been very personal, for she was sure he would never endanger any of them, the people he saw as his only family, by not alerting them to a potential threat. And maybe she was afraid, afraid of hearing a lie from the lips of her most trusted friend. So she watched him, closely and carefully, in the hope to find out more about the source of his feelings and maybe a way to help him without his knowledge. 

After a few months it became apparent that she would not find any useful clues, so eventually she made up her mind to follow him, to see where he went to. When she reached the gates of the city she didn't know what to think. Had She become his lover? This was not what she had expected to find. Was that the reason he avoided her touch, because there was another who could give him what he needed? But why not tell her then, why was there such pain in his eyes? He must know that she would have understood and respected whatever choices he had made. 

Confused she went to the one person she trusted most and knew best inside the city. She went to the mage who had once risked his life and called her spirit back from the ghost world when she had been on the brink of death. He would be able to help her find out why her friend had come to this place. 

*** 

I can barely keep myself from laughing aloud when she comes to me of all people and asks for help. Of course I don't know exactly why he is here again, maybe he likes tormenting himself, but I can clearly recognize the reasons for his behaviour towards his companions, which is not so unusual in the light of what I put him through. I am also aware of the perfect irony in this situation. From what I have heard about her I guess this spider queen the Drow worship so devotedly would be able to appreciate it too, if she could see us now. 

A perfect triangle, the girl anxious to discover what is wrong, her supposedly best friend wishing to hide the very same thing and myself with the power to destroy both their lives with a simple truth. 

Naturally I do not tell her about the little bargain I have made with him. Why waste this perfect opportunity? I can go to him first and if he's desperate enough, he will surrender once again to keep her from finding out about the high cost of her continued existence. How I long for the taste of this soft skin, how delicious it was to map every curve of his body with my tongue. 

After I send the ignorant bitch to bed, assured that I will do my best to assist her in this futile endeavour I start searching for him. Does he even know she's here? His control must be slipping for her to notice something amiss and if I play my cards right I might be able to drive him away from her, make him mine, unhappy but mine. 

I can see that my actions are wrong, but I can't help myself. This goes against everything I have been taught is right, but he has become an addiction, one that I'm unable to resist. Not that I want to. Like every true addict I hate and love my drug, I hate and love him at once for doing this to me. I crave the intoxicating feeling of power I have when watching him writhe under me unable to prevent the reactions I force him to show and hate him simultaneously for still having the high morals I can now never hope to reach. 

By the time I spot him on top of a small tower, I am inwardly quivering with anticipation. I take some time to compose myself before approaching the lonely figure. I mustn't be rash now, or I'll spoil my chance of getting what I need so much. 

I am treading a very thin line and I know it. If I press too hard and push him over the edge everything will be revealed and I will most likely be banned from the city, but if I am careful and he agrees… 


	4. Tension

Disclaimer: See last chapter (I hate these things, but I guess they are necessary)

A/N: I was informed that this story has an "Ick-factor" because it is about male/male sex. Sorry, but I did put warning in the first chapter that this is slash. So for anybody who managed to miss this fact until now: Be warned, there will be actual touching in this part! No fully fledged sex scene, because I've never actually done one that goes into all the details, but it goes a bit into that direction. And who knows what will come in future chapters…

Tension

"Do'Urden." I whisper carefully remaining in a distance where I won't be able to reach out and touch him. He doesn't turn around, but I can see him tense instantly and it takes a few seconds before he answers through gritted teeth. 

"Go away." Short and cold, but I won't. Instead I come closer, just a bit. 

"Catti-brie followed you." Another whisper, he whirls around and is facing me now, eyes wide and shocked. He still manages to sound cool and composed though when he says: "That doesn't concern you Rashiel." 

"Oh but it does. She came to me." I pause here to let the full impact of that sentence sink in. "She is concerned about your recent behaviour and asked me for help." 

This time I allow myself a smirk. Of course he is less than amused and unconsciously his hands curl into tight fists. I wonder if he knows. Patiently I keep my distance and wait for him to make the connection. I'm sure he will, it is too obvious for him not to see why I came. 

When he just stares at me lips drawn into a thin line, arms now crossed defensively, I decide to try another tactic. Provocation has always worked best with him. But I must still be careful or nothing will be gained by it.  

"What shall I tell her then or rather what shall it be that I'll not tell her?" 

I'm only half surprised when after a flurry of movement I suddenly find myself on my back with a knife to my throat and a very infuriated Drow on top of me. I can feel cold, unyielding stone through the soft green fabric of my robe and the back of my head hurts where I hit the ground. I hope nobody is watching us as this would be difficult to explain. I'm quite pleased with his reaction though, while I didn't even blink he is the one who lost control, showing a weakness which I won't hesitate to exploit. I drink in the sight above me, he really does look intimidating like this, trembling with rage and unreleased tension, so beautiful, so dangerous. Perfect.  

The feeling of cold steel against soft, vulnerable skin gives me an unexpected thrill. I've always known for sure that in a physical combat I'll never be a match for him, which makes my impending victory even sweeter. He could kill me so easily, but he won't. He cannot bring himself to do it. Another weakness? This time I'm not so sure. 

 "You won't tell her anything!" A low hiss. "You won't go anywhere near her ever again you bastard." 

So sweet, even now he tries to protect her. Completely unnecessary I must say for I would never touch her, but he doesn't know this. 

"Make me stay away." I reply with a soft laugh and pull him down so my lips brush against his and when he doesn't resist I know I have him. It is only a slight touch, like the touch of a butterfly's wing quick and fleeting, but it signifies so much. 

"No, don't." A pleading, desperate note has crept into his voice. "I can't do this again." 

Yesss! I've got him where I wanted, not begging yet, but soon, very soon. You'll be mine Do'Urden, I promise! 

"Why not?" I taunt. "I think you want this. And you want me to force you, because as long as I am the villain you can keep a clear conscience. Fine, go on then be the victim, believe what you wish to, but I know better." 

"No, no, no." Futile denial. He's getting up and I can see his hand shaking when he puts the knife back in some concealed sheath, hidden in a sleeve, but I mustn't let him get away now or he might regain a bit of inner balance, become aware of other possibilities to resolve this and change his mind after all. Quickly I grab his wrist, determined to keep him here. 

"Yes." 

With one step I close the remaining distance between us and let my fingertips explore at leisure. Down one ebony cheek, along the gentle curve of the jaw line and back across the neck until they come to rest just inside the shirt on the collarbone. He doesn't move an inch. 

"You like this." I whisper close to a pointed ear and feel him shiver. 

"I hate you." 

"Maybe, but it's yourself you hate even more than me, isn't it." 

A/N: I think by now you all have figured out that Rashiel is my own creation. I like the evil ones:)  I wanted to write more, but I've got a test tomorrow, so I didn't have the time. 


	5. Doubts

Disclaimer: Drizzt, Catti-brie and his other friends all do not belong to me. No profit made. 

A/N: When I started writing I intended this to be a one shot, but somehow the story took on a life of its own. I just hope I'm not spoiling everything by continuing and twisting Drizzt too much. Please tell me if you think I should stop or make suggestions for improvements. 

Doubts

I know where his problem lies. He does not want to admit to himself how much he actually enjoys not being in control, not being responsible, because it scares him that he would be capable of doing so. Instead he wants to obliterate me, the one who confronts him with this unwanted side of his personality and in turn he could become something he hates even more. I can see it now, the look which says "You will die." I have seen it before on the battle field, in the eyes of other Drow, of killers. 

"If you accept yourself you won't have to hate me, you know." 

He seems to have lost his voice and just takes a step back, his head shaking in silent denial. 

This time I don't close the distance, we've been here for too long already, out in the open and visible to everyone who cares to see. I must bring this to an end now and leave before someone comes along and discovers us together. 

"I will try to send her back tomorrow." I offer. 

"And for that you expect me to come with you tonight." He spits out the sentence like something foul and abhorrent, but I can hear the underlying resignation, once again I laugh. It won't be that easy. 

"No not tonight. There are other things I must do. You will come when I call." 

A wordless hiss of pure fury follows my arrogant statement. He doesn't like being ordered around, which is the exact reason for my doing so. This game is one I love to play, the game of control. The feeling of power is an exceptional aphrodisiac and I can already feel the tingle of excitement running down my spine. 

"You…" It is amazing how much hatred and anger can be conveyed in a single word and belatedly I notice that I am licking my lips. He has seen it too this slip of composure and stares as if hypnotized for a few seconds before awareness returns. Does he remember how these lips felt on his? Does he feel the ghostly touch of my thoughts? 

"You will not make me your slave!" 

With that he brusquely turns and walks away so fast he's almost running. My slave… I never wanted that. The whole appeal of this lies in his struggle, his defiance. Submission is only the conclusion of a game well played and while I crave it, I cannot deny the equally alluring excitement of the hunt, which precedes the completion. It seems to be my fate to wish for things that are forbidden, but I will have him even if it kills me. 

***  

You start running as soon as you are sure he won't hear your quickened steps. How could this happen? Your mind is in turmoil and your face burning with shame and apprehension. You could have wailed in despair when your body betrayed you once again, shivering under his touch as if it was a trusted lovers tender caress. If you let this continue he will eventually break you with soft words, touches and kisses. Even now you are doubting yourself, could you secretly want this? Why else would you react so strongly? 

You stop your aimless flight and rest one cheek against the cool stone of a plain wall in the desperate attempt to gain some measure of calmness. You need to think, to find a solution, but everything tumbles through your head in total disarray. 

Why did she have to follow you? What can you tell her, nothing really, for she must never know. You don't want her to carry the burden of the guilt you are certain she will feel when she learns about the ugly truth which lies behind her suspicions. And yet you won't be able to deceive her. She will see through every lie as she did when deciding to come here. She is too familiar with your way of thinking to be fooled and you don't think he will convince her to leave the city without searching for answers. 

The only way to keep this secret would be to leave her forever. And still you'll need his help, his silence, but you are very aware that this assistance will come at a high cost. With the realisation a cold, hollow sensation starts spreading in your body. If you run away though she will follow and inevitably the others will become involved too. You can't let that happen! They would find out everything and see what a tainted being you are, for how could they possibly understand and accept what you can't even fully comprehend yourself? No, the only thing you could do is to make her believe in your death; let her keep the clean, caring image she has of you now.

Through the distorting haze of self-loathing you picture their disgusted faces turning away from you, the slut who begs to be taken, who has neither pride nor morals. And yet you are unable to kill him, because if you revelled in his suffering that would make you something even worse. You have killed in revenge before, but it was different then, not in cold blood. You had no reason to question yourself and felt that your deeds were justified. But he managed to make you doubt yourself, your motivations. 

You feel like a trapped and cornered animal and in blind anger you lash out at the nearest thing welcoming the blossoming pain when your knuckles hit the wall. For a short, blissful moment you don't have to think, concentrating only on the sharp sting pulsing through your hand, but then you have to face the brutal reality once more. 

As much as you hate to admit it, you will have to go to him when he calls. You need his cooperation to push her away, for wouldn't this be better, to hurt her once, but in a way she which will enable her to forget you eventually, to continue her life and find happiness again? Only when you feel the slight, involuntary tingle, which runs down your back at the thought of his touch, it occurs to you that there might be no turning back once this route is taken. Maybe it is too late even now. 


	6. Unexpected encounter

Disclaimer: Drizzt and Catti-brie don't belong to me and nobody gives me any money for playing with them.

Bellebonbon: thanks. 

Nariel: Zu Befehl Oberin Mutter! Bitte schlag mich nicht*g*

Nauta: Artemis? Oh, never crossed my mind, but sounds interesting. I'm not sure I could write Artemis though. 

Beth: Thank you soooo much for investing all that time and thought into the most wonderful review I ever got! I nearly fell off my chair when I read it *g* (and I have still no idea what "verbose" means 'cos I have a crappy dictionary) You said Rashiel doesn't think much about morality. I think you're right, therefore I wrote something to explain his previous actions a bit. So, in a sense this is actually your very own personal chapter. I hope you like it (took me long enough).

Unexpected encounter

I wait for a few minutes before I make my way down the tower. To run into him now would only complicate matters. The important questions have been addressed and are settled. There is nothing more to say. Even though he has never explicitly agreed I know he will come when I call. I could see it in his eyes, the resigned acceptance paired with powerless resentment and the knowledge that there is no escape. 

I have nearly reached my chambers when someone comes around a corner and runs into me at full speed. Suddenly I find myself lying on my back for the second time this night. My previous good mood evaporates when I see who caused this collision. It is Burash. 

"Rashiel! Sorry for that. Are you hurt? I was looking for you." 

He blurts it all out in one big rush, while simultaneously pulling me on my feet and quickly dusting off my robe. Burash has always been like that, as long as I have known him, talking non-stop and unable to stand still for more than a second. Some people have been known to compare him to a small tornado and they are not exactly wrong. Before he can start talking again, which would probably result in him going off topic and forgetting why he came here in the first place I say: "Why did you want to see me?" 

"Oh yes, there was something. I saw Sandrine on my way here and she said you'd probably know what to do. Because I can't think of anything and you know how it is, once you see a problem it needs to be addressed or…"

"Burash!" I cut in. "I'm tired. Just tell me as short as possible please."

Without interruption he could take some time and I don't have the patience to wait for the hour he usually takes until he gets to the point. 

"Oh, well. Ok sorry." He is used to me doing this. We went to the same school for years and I had to interrupt him frequently, in order to preserve what precious free time I was granted. He never seems to mind though and stays almost frighteningly polite and cheerful. I have no idea how he does it, how he manages to be so terribly nice all the time when I would have been snapping at everybody long ago, were I in his position. Usually I like his company, because despite his strong inclination to gossip Burash is quite intelligent and witty under his shallow surface, but what he says next makes me want to strangle him.

"Drizzt Do'Urden ran past me just now and he seemed very distressed. Do you know what could have upset him? Maybe we should do something about this. Talk to him and find out if we can help." 

Why can't he mind his own damn business? What do I tell him now? I need to prevent any further interference on his part, for I'm sure he would be less than understanding if he ever found out about the role I play in this affair. Burash has always had a very distinct view of what is good and what isn't, which I envied at times when trying to find my own way through all the shades of grey that life presented me with. I have never had this instinct, which most people seem to posses, that tells you to ignore certain destructive impulses. At the moment I wish he'd just go away and leave me alone, so I wouldn't have to think about the black spots on my conscience. I've grown quite adept at ignoring them over the years, but I don't like the idea of lying to him. He has done nothing to deserve deception. It seems though that I have no other choice. Damn you Do'Urden for existing, for being so irresistible and forcing me to lie to one of my oldest friends. 

"I don't think that would do any good Burash. He's always been very private and I'm not sure if he'd appreciate you questioning him. Besides, Catti-brie is here. If there is anything wrong he'll probably go and talk to her." 

Good, lie a bit, but stay close to the truth and make it sound more believable. 

"Yes, but…wait Catti-brie is here? Since when?" 

It is a risk to tell him about her presence and thereby reveal my contact with her, but by tomorrow he'll probably know anyway. 

"She arrived today." 

"Well, that's good. You could go and talk to her then, find out if she knows what happened. If you don't mind that is. You know her better than I do, so you'd be the best person to ask her. Maybe I was wrong and nothing is amiss. That reminds me, did you hear that Sandrine and Anthony have announced their engagement? Those two really are such a beautiful couple, you should…" 

Wonderful, he's given the solution before I could even start to suggest anything. I nod briefly in consent and feel relieved when he starts talking about other things. Because I don't want to disrupt his good mood I pretend to listen for a few minutes and then I begin to yawn discreetly, hoping he will catch the hint and let me go to bed. 

If Burash knew what I'm capable of, would he still talk to me? I would be exactly the same person I am now, only without the mask of innocence I've been wearing all my life. 

It occurs to me that Do'Urden must have had his own mask, but where mine is used to cover my ruthlessness, his must have been there to do the opposite, to project an image of evil and malice. How else could he have survived in a city full of scheming murdering Drow? Remembering the predator-like expression he had when he held the knife to my throat I wonder how much of his present persona is pretence and just how much of his real self he is hiding or denying? 

When you realize you are different from those who surround you, this is a most disturbing experience and naturally you will try to hide and suppress what you perceive as a fault in your personality. When I realized that some of my desires were not in accord with the accepted rules of society, I did the same thing. It can be very exhausting to constantly have to keep up a certain image when in reality you sometimes feel something else entirely, but it is better than the prospect of discovery and exile. By now the pretence has become almost normal, for me it is a necessity of life, but it took a long time to let go of my lingering doubts and accept myself like I am. I no longer feel ashamed since I have decided just to do whatever I want to do and harbour no regrets. 

Don't get caught, that is all that counts. 


	7. Nightly visitor

Disclaimer: Drizzt does not belong to me. 

A/N: I'm not sure if I like this chapter and maybe I'll change it later, but this is my first attempt at writing something directly sexual so I guess there's room for improvement. 

Nightly visitor

When I wake from my reverie shortly before dawn, I'm presented with the unexpected sight of a very determined and angry Drizzt Do'Urden sitting on a chair next to my bed. How long has he been there? I don't like the thought of him watching me when I'm this helpless. Maybe I should start warding my quarters properly. But despite my misgivings I refuse to let him see my surprise and merely raise an eyebrow as if it isn't all that unusual for him to be here. 

"I have a plan." He says and when he doesn't continue I enquire: "And this plan happens to involve me?" 

"Would I be here if it didn't?" He replies with a frown. 

"Well," I drawl "You could be here for the pleasure of my company like some other people I know." 

"Your company is not in the least pleasurable to me." 

At this I smile. "Really? I seem to remember you telling me something different." 

I probably should not tease him like this, but I cannot resist when the opportunity is offered to me on a silver plate. He shows no reaction though and continues as if he has not heard me. 

"Nonetheless I require your assistance in staging my death." 

I must confess I did not expect him to come up with such a cunning plan. It's perfectly simple, but at the same time accomplishes all he could want for. When everybody believes him dead he will not only escape the girl, but I won't be able to go after him either, at least not without arousing suspicion about my involvement. For me to vanish just after he turns up dead would be as good as a confession. 

He looks at me strangely and I realize that I have not spoken for quite some time. 

"Where would you go?" 

"None of your business." 

Yes I expected that response, I had to be sure though, for some strange reason even I don't understand completely. And seeing that he's already here I guess I can just as well start to make him pay immediately. There are still a few hours left before everybody else wakes up and I'm not one to waste valuable time. There's not much left anyway if we proceed with this plan of his. 

"Fine." I nod curtly. "Now strip." 

He's not surprised. Of course not, he came here prepared to do exactly this, knowing the price I ask for my help, but apprehension is written all over his fascinating, ebony features as he proceeds to take off first his shirt, the soft boots and the trousers. I sit, still in bed and watch trying to commit every precious second to memory as more and more of the smooth black skin is revealed. 

When all of his clothing lies discarded on the floor he just stands there, arms crossed, waiting for me to make the next move, ready to obey my wishes. At least I like to think so. 

"Come here and kneel." I tell him, motioning towards a spot next to my bed, while sweet anticipation is pooling somewhere in my stomach. So close, I can already smell him, a mix of wood and wind with a faint note of rain, but I restrain myself just a little bit longer and just lean closer to inhale the intoxicating scent. 

"When this is over, will you take other lovers?" I ask quietly and he answers with a bitter laugh. 

"What? Are you afraid that someone else could take your place? I would not have expected you to be jealous Rashiel." 

I shrug. "Not jealous, merely curious. Would you willingly renounce the pleasures of the flesh after knowing what ecstasy your body can be made to feel?" 

And without giving him the chance to answer I pull him into a long demanding kiss. But inwardly I am wondering, could I really be jealous? I don't like the thought as it would make me vulnerable and give him something to use against me, if he should wish to do that. 

When we part both of us are breathing harder. He has started to tremble slightly and I can feel the strong pulse of blood under the soft skin as I slowly lick my way up his throat, one hand trailing down the back. 

"How do you want to die?" 

"Preferably fast if you don't mind." 

So he has not yet lost his sense of humour. Good, he will probably need it, if he wants to watch his own funeral. 

"Well, we'll still have to set something up, because no one will believe that you just committed suicide and I have to make some preparations." 

"Preparations?" 

"Yes. In order to produce a convincing corpse I'll need some of your hair." 

I love his hair, love to run my fingers through it like I am doing now, a mass of white curls, resembling the clean, fresh snow on a lonely mountain. I have often wondered why Drow have such a peculiar hair colour. It is so distinctive and hard to hide, especially in the incomplete darkness of a moonlit night that some of them still claim as their birthright. The stark contrast of white hair against the dark black skin fascinates me, day and night united in one being. 

"How long?" 

He looks at me questioningly, but I don't answer until he follows my silent order and gets in the bed, lips compressed into a thin disapproving line. He has learned the rules of our little game, there's always a price to pay even if he doesn't like it. The presence of another warm body next to me is overwhelming for a second. I have been alone for so long I can hardly keep myself from taking him right now, but that's not what I really want and therefore I limit my range of attack to one nipple, content to be rewarded with a low moan. 

"You're not so disgusted now, are you." 

My statement is met with a set of narrowed purple eyes. 

"How long?" 

"Give me four days to prepare." I answer sighing, but not without adding: "And one night of payment." 

"Bastard. I'm here now, is that not enough for you?" 

"No. You don't seem to mind all that much, and seeing your reactions I'd even say that you are enjoying what I do, so stop whining." 

At this his expression turns indignant. "But this is wrong!" 

After trying hard to hold back my laughter and failing magnificently, I finally collapse giggling helplessly. This is wrong, really? 

"What is so funny?" He hisses angrily before my hand finds its way between his legs. His arousal is obvious and when my touch becomes more insistent he can only gasp, all protest swept away now by the feelings that are assaulting his sensitive nerves. Soon his body is arching upwards after he has lost the inner battle for self control. He looks so intense, so captivating and I can see that he is near completion. 

"If this is wrong, I should stop now, shouldn't I?" 

The taunting whisper next to a dark pointed ear is answered by a defeated moan. 

"Say it. Say that you want this." 

But he only moans once more managing to leave the damning words unsaid. For now. 


	8. Dawn

Disclaimer: Drizzt is not mine, most of the other stuff isn't either. 

A/N: Yes I know it's not very long, but somehow "The attraction of opposites" is taking up most of my time at the moment… anyway I didn't want to neglect this totally so I wrote a bit. I admit that it's not very inspired…hopefully I'll overcome this stage sometime soon. 

Dawn

But not much longer, for I'm determined to hear him beg. He will suffer a bit I decide and concentrate on other tempting areas of his well defined body, which will also make him gasp in helpless pleasure, but won't let him escape and build up the need for release. I'm so intent on his body that I only notice his change of mind when he suddenly reverses our positions and pins me down taking full advantage of his physical superiority and skills. 

"Oh no, this time you will beg." A harsh whisper, that lets my skin tingle. It seems I have pushed enough so that his warrior instinct has finally taken over and substituted for any lack of experience. I'm quite surprised to find that I don't mind in the least, on the contrary. I think I'll let him continue and find out how much further he is willing to go. 

With a smirk I challenge him saying: "Show me then. Prove that you are not afraid of your own desires." 

And he does. A bit insecure in the beginning, but it seems that he has learned much from our last encounter, soon I am the one who's writhing and I actually have to bite my lips to keep from screaming. It would be so easy to get lost now in pure sensation, like fire and ice on my skin, in my bones, on my tongue, but I mustn't. This is my game. 

"So," I manage to gasp just as he is placing a delicious, small bite on the inside of my thigh, which I'm sure will leave a mark. "Do you like it better this way?" 

He looks up at me disbelievingly. 

"Like?" 

Gods why does he have to be so infuriatingly thick at a time like this? I have neither the composure nor the patience to explain myself right now. 

"Never mind." I groan distractedly when he simply continues with his ministrations. 

After some time my wish for control surfaces again, receiving is nice for a change but it is nothing compared to see his reactions when he is at my mercy. When he can't help himself but do what he is told to. 

Are all Drow males like this? I suppose that many of them might be, having a vicious Priestesses breathing down your neck for most of your life must have some permanent effect. 

"Get on your back." I order him sharply out of nowhere and to my delight he's already halfway there before he even realizes what he's doing. Once he does notice though, he comes to halt with an accusing glare. 

"Why are you doing this?" 

Should I explain? I guess I could try. On the other hand if he's too daft to understand he doesn't deserve a lengthy explanation. It's not that hard, especially not for someone with his background. 

"Because I like it. Now do as I say." 

This seems to offend him even more, even though he does obey now. 

"So you prefer to treat me like a paid whore instead of an equal." 

Well if he wants to put it like that. 

"Yes." 

"But why?" 

We've been through this so many times now, it's beginning to bore me! 

"Because you also prefer it that way." 

"I do not!" An angry hiss, which puts a condescending smile on my face. 

"So what you want is a happily ever after where we live together in peace and prosperity for the rest of our lives?" 

Judging by the way he's frowning now the thought obviously does not appeal to him. Good, I would have been frightened if it did! 

"No. I want…." 

"Yes?" Is he going to say it? 

"I want you to leave me be." 

Inwardly I'm sighing. As if I didn't know that. Being confronted with something you don't like about yourself is not very pleasant. 

"As I said before, if you want to keep denying it you're welcome to do so, but don't expect me to play along and I would be very grateful if you could just shut up about this, because frankly I have no desire to discuss such matters at the moment." 

He stays blissfully quiet except for the occasional moan or whimper and for the remainder of this morning I quite enjoy myself, taking advantage of his willing body and admittedly less willing mind. 

When he slips out of the city gates in the first light of the rising sun I'm already busy with preparations. I have much to do and little time. 


	9. The death second version

Disclaimer: See last chapter 

A/N: I made some minor changes in this chapter and reposted it, because Neven told me that there actually is a deity that fits my story perfectly and I thought it would be better to use him than the one I had just conveniently made up. (Thank you once again.) I hope I got it right and haven't put in any mistakes. 

Nariel: Catti-brie soll es ihm auch gar nicht abkaufen. Wo wäre denn sonst die Spannung? 

The death

It's nearly dark when at the end of the third day I finally complete the task of duplicating his body. I have to be very careful. If somebody were to stumble in and see this I'd be in trouble. The lifeless body of what appears to be Drizzt Do'Urden lying on a table, it looks peaceful somehow and devoid of strength very different from the Do'Urden I know, who usually has a more guarded and watchful demeanour. 

I touch the cool, dry skin of my creation and the unnatural sensation makes me feel uncomfortable for a moment, my nose crinkling in distaste. I don't like this still, chilled thing. The faster I can dispose of it the better. Fortunately tomorrow will be the last day I'll have to endure its presence. 

Catti-brie has not left the city yet. I don't know why she'd choose to stay here while her friend is gone, but this could actually work to my advantage. If she sees the corpse herself she'll be more likely to believe in his death without starting troublesome inquiries. You believe what you see, it's always been like that. I have been too busy during the last days to talk to her, which is probably for the best, for what would I tell her, that I did not care enough to go and see him? 

I cannot duplicate his weapons in such a short time. They're simply too complex in their magical signature and easy to trace because of that. I hope he's aware of the fact that he'll have to part with them. 

He's not as I discover the next evening, on the contrary. He's quite upset when I tell him. So much that he actually starts pacing agitatedly displaying a surprising loss of composure. I can't really comprehend how anybody can obsess in such a fashion about something as inconsequential as a scimitar, a lifeless thing which can be bought over and over again. But then, I don't know anything about the circumstances under which they were acquired so maybe they do have some sentimental value after all. I would understand if he made this kind of fuss about the cat, but apparently for reasons only he knows he has left her with his friends and seems resigned to the fact that she'll stay there. 

After watching him for an hour I suggest that he could always come back afterwards and steal them. He's offended of course and becomes angry, which is exactly what I intended because it distracts him from his loss. 

Now the only ting left to do is to write the letter before dropping the body off a tower. He has to do it, because if I did, it could be traced back to me. It goes along the lines of "Death for all drow in the name of Shevarash", although it will have to be a bit more drawn out of course in order to convincing.

 I watch him, hunched over the parchment, face screwed up in concentration. I still want him, with an urgency that borders on pain, but I'm only too aware that tonight is not the time for such things. He might even really kill me if I touch him now. He's so tense already. 

The followers of the God Shevarash are known for the fanatical practise of their beliefs. Even though most people must know by now that this particular drow really is different from the cold blooded killers who make up the majority of his kin it would still be likely for them to just go and kill him. They are also known for their blind hatred of our dark cousins after all and in this city so full of elves it would be no difficulty to hide inconspicuously after committing the deed. Especially considering the fact, that many people I know will still avoid him when possible. Not obviously so, they know better than to be rude when the mistress herself clearly trusts and values him, but I've seen on several occasions how looks of resentment were directed at his back, despite everything he has done the colour of his skin still seems to be an obstacle not everybody can overcome. 

In my opinion that just shows it doesn't pay to be unselfish and good when nobody expects you to. Once someone is convinced you're the epitome of evil you'll have a hard time to make them believe differently. 

From the secure surroundings of my office I open a portal to the tower through which we can throw the body, complete with letter and knife in the back. Fast and simple. It's quite an anticlimax after all that has transpired beforehand. 

When it is done I hand him another letter that gives time and place of our next and probably last meeting and without another word he is gone, slipped away into the shadows as if he had never been there. 

***** 

It is done! For the first time in months you feel free again. Now the only thing that still ties you to this existence is the letter, which burns in your pocket like a hot iron, but soon this too will be over. You will shed this part of your life and be born once more. 

You ignore the soft voice at the back of your mind which is telling you that you are just running away and that the problems will remain with you wherever you may go. The voice is wrong. For days you sat under that tree near the city, slowly drowning in your thoughts, guilt, your fear, you saw their faces, him smiling in that special way which says "I know the truth! Give in and everything will be fine." You felt ghostly hands on you and felt the stirring these thoughts caused. Maybe one day you'll be able to replace the hands with somebody else's, make the memory go away or at least turn it into something bearable. 

For now you hate the way your body betrays you, how you lean into his touch, how you crave it, the humiliation, the loss of control. This is not what it should be like! 

It was a surprise though when he told you that his people know a God who to you appears to be just as revengeful as those he hates with such passion and even goes so far as to sanctify murder. Hopefully you'll never meet someone who really follows him. 

You plan to go far away where no one knows you. Because only then you'll be free again, you won't have to carry the burden of hidden guilt. You have done this before after all and know it's possible. You will not forget, but you will be able to choose, to remember the good times and the lightness of shared laughter instead of forced pleasure, the dirty feeling and the bad aftertaste it left in your mind. 

You have convinced yourself that it is better this way. Your friends won't have to learn how cheap you are, what an obedient whore, you won't have to face him again everything will be fresh and new. You are still young and can start a new life, come to terms with yourself to find some inner peace before you have to face anybody. 

Slowly you take out the letter and read it. It's very short and consists only of a date four weeks from now and the name of a shabby tavern in Waterdeep, nothing else. You will be there. That was the bargain after all and as always he has kept up his part. In your mind that leaves you with no other choice, even though you fervently wish it were different. 


	10. Discoveries

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Once again: I changed some things in the last chapter, but it has no  major effects on the story line, so if you want you can go and have a look, but if you don't it's fine. 

LadyJanelly: Yes, I think that's his strongest point, to be able to look past the outward appearances of people even though he's not really a "nice guy". 

Discoveries 

You are waiting in a dark, cluttered side street near the tavern where you are to meet him tonight. It is slowly getting dark and the light has an eerie, unreal quality which makes all colours seem oddly dull. You have just raised your hand to once again tug on the hood of your cloak even though you know perfectly well that your features are concealed as much as possible, when the soft scrape of boots alerts you to another person's presence behind your back and you whirl around hands already on the daggers you got as a poor substitute for your scimitars.  

Of course it's him. Who else would have the nerve to sneak up behind you in such a dangerous place? 

"Don't do that." You snap in irritation, which produces a smirk on the golden features. 

"Afraid?" 

You decide not to credit this ridiculous question with an answer. At least he expects no facade of false happiness from you, which is a relief. You can be as hostile as you want without having to waste energy on pretending otherwise. 

"So is this where we'll be staying tonight?" You inquire with a disgusted look at the shabby building which presently provides shelter for some of the shadier characters of this town. You know what the inside must be like after you have seen them enter. Dark, dirty with badly repaired furniture and eternally haunted by the disgusting smell of alcohol, vomit and other repulsive fluids which always seems to cling to places like this one. 

A short nod. 

"Yes, let's go." 

Inwardly sighing you follow. At least in this place no one will look at you too closely enough to discover your true identity. Hopefully this night will be over soon. Already you are torn between a strange helpless excitement which is sending a wave of adrenaline through your body and angry resentment at the fact that he's the one who invoked this feeling. 

Fighting frost giants is easier than merely being here! 

As the two of you mount a shaky staircase that leads to the room he has rented from the fat, greasy landlord you idly wonder what he's going to do about the vermin infested bed, which you'll certainly encounter in there, because you are quite certain he'd never touch something so filthy. 

You are right. As soon as you have closed the door behind you he wriggles slender fingers and a muted reddish glow descends on the offending piece of furniture, turning it into something a lot more comfortable and clean. Well prepared as always, you think cynically while taking off you cloak. 

You don't get any further though, because he suddenly turns around, takes hold of your shirt and pulls you close with a hungry look in the amber coloured eyes. Before you have the time to think about it your treacherous lips have opened to grant him entrance. After a minute which seems like an eternity and leaves you feeling slightly dazed, you let yourself be led towards the bed. You don't resist as he pushes you backwards and straddles your thighs as you lie amidst the clean sheets, dark skin providing a stark contrast to their whiteness. 

For now he seems content to watch you, providing the moment you need to recover and ask the question which has been on your mind all these weeks. 

"Did it work?" 

He takes the time to leisurely trace the graceful line of your lips with cool fingers before he asks: "Would I be here if it had not?" 

"I guess not." 

"The whole city was in turmoil over it! You should have seen the reactions. Some of them were very telling." 

He does not say what kind of reactions he means, but you can imagine them well enough. And the thought leaves you feeling weary. You wouldn't expect anything else, after all the time you spent up here under the sun you know better, but sometimes, just sometimes it is rather tiring to ignore or accept the prejudices of others without taking them to heart. 

"And you Rashiel? What did you say? A dead drow is a good drow? Or is it the colour of my skin which fascinates you so? Would you take any dark elf provided he's beautiful enough to meet your standards?" 

For a second you are frightened upon hearing the amount of resigned bitterness in your questions. You must not let yourself think like this! The look he gives you is unreadable, does he even know? Does he care? 

"You are unique, probably too unique for this world I would say." 

His answer comes as a surprise to you. You have expected something more along the lines of: Yes I would, now get on your knees. This strange statement is something you won't forget for a long time. There's another question on your mind though and apparently he has anticipated it, because he shakes his head before he draws you into another kiss, effectively sealing your lips. Calculating as always, never prepared to give without taking something in return. 

Insistent hands are tugging on your shirt, sliding under the fabric to touch heated skin, nails scraping slightly on your stomach, making you shiver, but two can play this game and if he expects you to obey the rules he'll have to do it too. 

You take hold of his arms not very tight, but with just the amount of pressure that is needed to stop him. 

"Cattie-brie?" 

A soft sigh, he doesn't like her, but answers nonetheless. 

"Will leave the city tomorrow. I believe she was packing when I left." 

You frown and tighten your grasp. That is not enough. He's also frowning. 

"I don't particularly care for her mental wellbeing you know, but after spending three weeks crying in her rooms she seems to be recovering, enough to travel at least. The mistress has taken care of her." 

That is probably all you'll get out of him. It'll have to suffice. You allow him to shake off your grip and open the buttons of your shirt. Warm lips and slight touches up and down your chest, you can feel how need is building somewhere inside you. This is the moment you hate the most, because you know that soon all control will elude you, but there is nothing you could do to prevent it. You are not even so sure anymore whether you actually want to. More touches, touches that bring distracting sensations. 

There was a reason, which you can't quite recall at the moment, which made being here uncomfortable. You decide to ignore that reason, close your eyes and concentrate instead on the sensations caused by clever hands that somehow are everywhere on your body. 

Somebody is moaning. It is your own voice. 

"Take off my clothes." 

Another voice. You don't object though, because the thought of touching that smooth, golden skin secretly fills you with guilty anticipation. You can admit this only now, because now you can't resist anyway. 

The cloak goes first, then the shirt, the belt with the weapons and wands until you kneel in front of him your fingers resting on the fine brownish fabric of his pants. Should you stop here, wait until he orders you to go on? You know he will and you still don't want to appear too eager, even though he has realized long ago that despite everything you say, your body seems to have its own mind about such things. 

Hands tangling in your hair. "What are you waiting for?" Words spoken in a husky voice. 

After this you don't hesitate any longer and take off the soft leather boots before you free his erection. You watch mesmerized as your hands, controlled by something else than conscious thought, slowly glide up long legs before touching that most sensitive place, a sharp intake of breath from above as your lips come into contact with the tip. 

"Yesss." Softly hissed, when you open your mouth and take him in. It does not last for long though and soon he orders you to get back on the bed again to proceed with the removal of what remains of your own clothing. When he starts to prepare you carefully for what will certainly be the first of many times tonight, you realize that you haven't even thought about disobeying his command, but before you can become too upset about your discovery all logic and introspection is once again buried deeply under pure sensation. 

**** 

After I have taken him fast the first time, reducing the urgency that had built up during long weeks of waiting and anticipation, I lie next to him in the bed, breathing hard, relishing his scent, mingled with my own and that of our fulfilment. His eyes are closed and I can see his chest rise and fall with each deep breath. A strand of sweaty white hair is plastered to his temple. He looks thoroughly fucked, virtually irresistible. 

Slowly, lazily I let my hands wander along familiar paths, provoking a much appreciated reaction further down. His perseverance never ceases to amaze me. He doesn't look as if he's inclined to move much anytime soon though and I just continue my slow stroking, content for the moment. 

The relatively peaceful atmosphere is suddenly disturbed when the door is thrown open and bangs loudly against the wall, revealing the one person I have absolutely no wish to see at a moment like this. Catti-brie. She barges in shortly followed by Burash whose eyes nearly fall out of his head upon seeing us. 

"What have you done to him?!" He asks Drizzt sharply. And that sets me off. I know that I'm irrevocably damning myself by doing this, but I simply cannot help it I start to laugh and can't stop. So typical that Burash would think of him as the one who is to blame for this. 

The girl only stares at the friend she believed dead until now, while said friend has turned a sickly grey colour and futilely tries to cover his nakedness with a sheet. He's obviously unable to explain anything right now. The same can not be said about her though and unlike Burash she has caught on remarkably fast. 

"You?" Is all she says, turning to me wide eyed and with a look of shocked betrayal on her face. I can only laugh harder, wasting the moment of surprise in which I could still have gotten away. I'm finally caught. It only sinks in when I feel the cold tip of her sword at my throat. I stop laughing and regard her with a cold gaze. There's no need to play nice anymore. 

I have no idea how they managed to find us here, not until I see the pendant which is still dangling from her fist. I know what it is. I helped to create it after all. How could I forget about something so important? Not only did it alert her to the fact that Drizzt is still alive, it also allowed Burash to help her trace him with the utmost accuracy. 

By now my old friend has become aware that his first assessment of the situation was inaccurate. He's still confused though. 

"What is the meaning of this?" He asks me, obviously hoping that I will do something to explain this scene. I stay silent, having no time to say anything before the girl makes a surprisingly precise guess considering she has only had seconds to consider the circumstances in which they found us. 

"You forced him!" 

I decide not to deny it. He'll tell her anyway now that she has seen us like this. He'll pour his poor, battered heart out and I'll be damned, so why not hurt her while I still can. 

"Yes, first at the cost of your life and then his own." 

I watch her mind working through this and can actually tell the second she realizes what my last sentence means. The sword starts quivering slightly and because it's so very sharp it even draws a little bit of blood from me. I refuse to react to that though and just look her calmly in the eyes, smiling cruelly all the while. 

Then as if obeying a silent command we both turn to gaze at him. He stares back with a look of utmost horror on his face. 

A/N: I hope everybody knows what pendant I'm talking about. If not: It's the one Alustriell once gave his friends, which Catti-brie later used to find him in Menzoberranzan. 


	11. Surprises

Disclaimer: See earlier chapters

Icingdeath: Hope this was soon enough and really, you are the first person I have ever met who admits a liking for cliff-hangers! 

Neven: Not so wicked this time, sorry:-)  

SsinurnSolen: Thanks! 

LadyJanelly: Yep he's caught, but since I like him he'll survive the encounter. 

A/N: For everybody who has wondered about it, I didn't give Catti-brie her typical accent, because honestly I couldn't write it if my life depended on it! Simply writing in a language which is not my own is hard enough without adding strange stuff like ye or the other things she always says which I can't remember right now. 

Surprises

"You…I… ." He stops talking and covers his face with both hands too ashamed to look her into the eyes. When she turns back to me, she is trembling with rage and for a second I wonder whether she'll kill me now, caught up in mindless fury. 

"You bastard!" She hisses. "I trusted you and you just…you just… this will not stay without consequences for you, you son of a bitch!" 

Throughout this sentence she has steadily raised her voice until it has reached such a high pitch that it hurts my sensitive ears and I have to grit my teeth to keep from covering them with my hands. Burash still seems to have a difficult time to fully understand what is happening right in front of him, but I can see the way he is looking at me and how his disbelief is slowly turning into something else, something which is probably even more dangerous for me than her hot blooded anger. If he feels that he can rightfully sort me in one of his neat little drawers that says "Evil" he'll have absolutely no qualms about executing me on the spot should he feel that to be a fitting punishment. I know his single minded approach to moral principles too well, to expect merciful judgement from his side after seeing this kind of expression on his face. Much to my surprise, and everybody else's I think, it is Drizzt's voice which fills the silence next. 

"Put the sword down please." He says tiredly and I can only stare in dumbfounded astonishment when he continues. "This is a matter between the two of us." 

"NO it isn't!" Catti-brie hisses her sword still on my throat. "He used me to force you into this! And he has just admitted it laughing in my face." 

"Yes, that may be the case, but he did save your life. Does that mean nothing to you?" 

I can clearly see how it pains her to hear this. To owe her life to someone who betrayed her in such an uncaring manner. Why is he defending me anyway? Ah, never mind the why, it is useless anyway because he'll not persuade Burash, no matter how hard he should try. She doesn't seem very appeased either and makes no move to sheathe her blade, even though we must look quite ridiculous. Me stark naked and defenceless on the bed and her in full battle dress threatening me as if I could actually do anything besides blushing, which I am pleased to note I have managed to avoid so far. 

"You will be severely punished for using a friend of our Lady like this Rashiel. I hope you know that." 

At that I can only raise an eyebrow. Burash's voice has the icy calm quality that with him indicates a dislike bordering on hatred and I must say, he has recovered remarkably fast from what must be a devastating blow to his mindset. I don't know why but for some reason this circumstance, paired with the condescending undertone of his statement makes me very angry. We have been friends for years and now he is willing to throw all this away after only a few seconds of consideration? I would have expected at least a little more hesitation from him, but I should probably learn to be more careful in future about who I choose as my friend. 

Vexed by my own faulty judgement I hiss back: "I used him like the whore he is and was stupid enough to let myself be caught. Yes of course I would expect punishment for such blatant inattentiveness." 

All three of them wince at my harsh words, but I'm past caring and go on with a sharp voice that is dripping with sarcasm. "So what do you suggest then old Friend? Kill me? Sell me to a brothel so I'll know what it is like to be used? Lock me up in some dark room so that I can think about my mistakes and repent? What?!" 

A second later I want to bite off my tongue for suggesting to sell me, because can I practically see how the idea takes hold in his mind. Yes that would be exactly what he'd like, give what you get, only he himself would probably never have thought of something so elaborate. That kind of thing has always been my speciality. And sadly I have to admit, that were the villain in question not me, I would probably congratulate myself for thinking up such a fitting revenge. 

But now I have doubtlessly sealed my fate, because it is very unlikely that I'll still find a way to convince them that the drow went into this willingly. Not after my stupid outburst a few seconds ago. I already regret that I let my temper get the better of me, although there's nothing I can do about it now. 

"You know, I had something more conventional in mind." Burash is saying. "But since you're suggesting it we might just as well follow your lead and sell you." 

I had anticipated it, but still, hearing it from his lips is even worse than I thought and I have to grit my teeth in helpless frustration to keep from grabbing the next best thing and throw it in his face. 

"No!" 

Do'Urden, again. What in the nine hells has gotten into him? Does he want to kill me himself or has he chosen this most unsuitable of moments to finally acknowledge his nature and suddenly come to terms with it? Whatever it is, I'm certain that one day he'll be the death of me! Burash is even more surprised than Catti-brie and I. He starts to object.

"But… ." 

"No." He is cut off by Drizzt. "You will not do anything to him. I went along with it out of my own free will." 

I can clearly see that the two are not going to believe this and apparently he recognizes it too, because he decides to support his words with tangible proof, reaching around my neck to pull me into an unexpectedly deep kiss that leaves me flushed and our spectators gaping in utter astonishment. A sentiment I can understand only too well, because currently I feel exactly the same way, although I decide wisely not to let it show and with considerable effort manage to keep up an impassive facade. 

A quick study of his face doesn't give me any clues as to why he is suddenly behaving in such a strange way. His expression is serious, the gaze of lavender eyes fixed firmly on the blue ones of the girl, willing her to believe him. She stares back, silently and I can tell that somehow these looks contain more information than meets the eye, for after what feels like an eternity she seems to come to a conclusion and breaks the eye contact to look at me instead, while finally removing the sword from its inconvenient place at my throat. 

"We will talk about this." She tells me coldly before turning to Burash adding: "In private.", with a meaningful glance towards the door. 

For a second I doubt that he will heed her request, but then he turns abruptly and leaves the room, followed by the drow, who has by now wrapped the sheet around himself and seems quite uncomfortable at the thought of having to wait out there without any decent clothes, but doesn't object in any way. Well, at least this lack of garments ensures that he won't just run away, which I suppose is a good thing right now, seeing that he's the only one defending me. 


	12. Lie or half truth?

Disclaimer: I don't own them. 

LadyJanelly: Yes the accent…I have a good excuse for not writing it though (lucky me:-) Even if I tried it would probably sound utterly ridiculous. 

SsinurnSolen: Thank you once again, I'll never tire of hearing it:-) 

Icingdeath: Drop your yaw, really? It didn't seem so surprising to me, but then I'm the one who wrote it…I just like the ironygrins and strokes her snake headed whip. 

Neven: Yes Kushiel… I'm busy reading "Kushiel's Avatar", but I don't have nearly as much time as I would like. As for his humbleness, even exaggerated humbleness can become a form of arrogance and after I got stuck halfway through "The lone drow" I decided that he got on my nerves and deserved for it to be taken to the extreme:-) 

Which language do you speak by the way? 'cos I'd say you've got quite an impressive vocabulary for a non-native speaker! 

Lie or half truth? 

"So tell me Rashiel, what kind of power do you hold over him to make my best friend lie to my face?" 

This isn't turning out well, but then I guess I can hardly expect her to believe what I don't even believe myself. She does seem a bit calmer now, so maybe it's best just to tell the truth and hope for mercy. At least she has send Burash outside. I know he'll respect her wish for privacy no matter how disgusted he may be by my actions, so I anything I say will stay between the two of us unless she decides otherwise. 

"I don't know." 

"Make a guess then." 

She snaps, obviously her newly won composure is quite fragile. Should I try to justify my actions, tell her that the plan was his idea? Better not. I still can't gauge her mood well enough to make any accurate assumptions as to what is going on inside that pretty head of hers. For the time being I believe I'll just say as little as possible. 

"Fine, but you won't like what I have to say." 

"Now why don't you just tell me and let my sensitive feelings be my own concern." 

"As you wish." My raised brow seems to irritate her, but she makes an effort not to say anything and I continue. 

"Very well to put it simply, during the first time I … made that bargain with him I discovered that we complement each other in our desires. Mine for dominance and his to yield, but where I have accepted this part of my personality long ago he seems to have problems and can't come to terms with himself. You know the results. As for his recent behaviour, I have no idea what he wants to achieve with his claim." 

"His lie!" She interrupts me. 

"No, not really. I believe the term half truth would come closer to the actual circumstances." My last statement is met with a deep frown. 

"Let me get this straight. Are you honestly trying to tell me he likes to be used by you, but can't accept it and this has prompted him to stage his death and leave his friends? " 

That is the story in a nutshell. I nod and watch her stare at me in plain disbelief. 

"But how could anybody…?" She mutters softly to herself, before abruptly turning towards the door, to open it quickly, pull in a very startled Drizzt and close it again, which leaves Burash alone outside in the smelly corridor. 

"And now," She says to him, but pointing in my general direction, "tell me again, that you went to his bed out of your own free will." 

 He is practically squirming under her angry gaze, avoiding to look at either of us and all he manages is a very soft: "Not the first time…" before hiding behind a curtain of white hair and drawing the sheet closer around himself like some sort of useless armour. I nearly burst out laughing again, but eventually restrain myself biting on my lip. My inappropriate fit of hilarity would only cause more damage than is already done anyway. But really, this is the great hero of icewind dale, the one who would challenge a lair of rouge orks all by himself, who is so very disciplined and self assured and who is now standing there wrapped in nothing but a sheet, looking like a frightened school boy who has to face an angry teacher. 

"What do you mean?" 

She is virtually growling now and I can see him flinch under the force of her words. 

"I…" he pauses and draws himself up and takes a deep breath. Obviously he has found some strength hidden somewhere in the deep crevices of his soul that enables him to face the inevitable in a slightly more dignified manner. 

"The plan was my creation and I went to him knowing full well what I would have to do." 

"But…" 

"And I enjoyed it." He says the last words very quickly, while staring fixedly at the floor as if it holds all the wisdom of the universe. For a long time nobody moves and a suffocating, heavy silence fills the room. I watch the conflicting emotions flicker across the face of the girl, disbelief, hurt, compassion, sadness and worry. She could destroy him now, one false word and he'll be shattered. I can barely breathe in the growing tension, but I'm condemned to be a mere spectator in this drama unable to exert any influence for anything I could say now would probably be wrong. Everything depends on her next actions. 

"So that is how much you trust me?" She asks finally softly with a trembling voice, a single tear running down her cheek. "You thought we wouldn't understand, wouldn't accept you like we've always done?" 

"NO…yes… you don't understand. I hated myself! How could you bear my presence when I couldn't even look into a mirror knowing that…that…knowing who… how I really am." 

The look on his face is pure anguish and despair. In a way it is my doing and I start to feel slightly guilty, but do my best to suppress this bothersome emotion. It's not entirely my fault after all when he can't live with himself. 

"How you really are?" a careful question. 

"A slut." 

These two words said with utter self loathing paired with something akin to resignation come as no surprise to me and inwardly I sigh. He has not fully made his peace with himself I take it, stubborn as always, but seems to be willing by now to at least accept the bare facts regardless of the resentment he feels at the thought of receiving pleasure from submission. If he still resents the idea though, why then would he not expose me?  I have not been very fair in my selfish strive for satisfaction. That much I know. 

"A slut?" She seems surprised. "But you're not…" 

"Yes I am!" He interrupts her sharply. "Or what would you call someone who derives lust from humiliation, who trades his body for favours and finds enjoyment in…" 

"Stop! Stop this." She cries, very pale now. "It does not matter to me. Don't you understand?" 

"But how can you keep an ounce of respect for me when it is clear that I don't even have it for myself?" 

He sounds quite desperate now and despite my earlier decision to keep quiet I can suddenly hear my voice saying: "If you really think that to be true, you're more stupid then I gave you credit for! I don't know her nearly as well as you do, but even I would never expect her to turn from you for something like this and pray tell, since when do you base your self respect on your sexual desires? I think it's time you stop wallowing in self pity and accept the simple truth that giving in to me does in no way make you an inadequate person." I hesitate for a second before adding dryly: "And besides I think you do at least deserve some credit for retaining enough self control to leave me alive after what I did to you." 

Both of them stare at me now, almost startled to find me still present. 

"He is right you know." The girl says eventually. "He's a bastard, but he's right. I don't care and the others won't either. We will get through this like we have always done!" 

So she has apparently decided to put her own hurt feelings aside for the moment and in a surprisingly quick move she closes the distance between them pulling him into a tight embrace. He does not relax, but makes no effort to get away from the contact, which I think is a good sign. With her continued support I assume that given some time he'll get over his guilt and back to the life he has lead before this. 

Realizing that I'm still naked I decide that now is probably a good moment to grab some clothes and try to get away. Burash is still outside and these two seem deeply submerged in their own little world. I'm not even halfway to the window though when I'm roughly pushed face first against a wall and feel steel at my throat for the second time this night. 

"Oh no, don't think you can get out of this so easily Rashiel." 

I shrug lightly trying to appear unperturbed by the anger in his voice. 

"It was worth a try. The thought of being sold is not a nice one you know." 


	13. Bracelets

Disclaimer: No own, no money made… who reads this anyway?

Icingdeath: Here is more :-)

Neven: Yes of course he can be compassionate! I was planning to have them move together into mithril hall, let Drizzt get pregnant with some convenient potion and make Catti-brie the Godmother (or whatever you call it, I'm not quite sure) of their twins, with a nice romantic Christmas scene as happy end giggles insanely and jumps off a cliff  (ok, but I did say that he manages to suppress his guilt:-)

Nariel: Äh um ganz ehrlich zu sein, in meinem Zimmer hängt wirklich ein Legolas Poster. Hab ich zu Weihnachten bekommen:-)  Wegen der Sache mit Artemis und Jarlxle…hm weiß noch nicht genau, bin grad am überlegen ob ich das bei Blickwinkel einfach ganz elegant einfließen lasse…sonst komm ich mit den anderen Geschichten nicht mehr hinterher.

Bracelets

"You have just admitted that you knew she would never turn from me and yet you never said a word about your opinion using my fears to your own advantage instead. Don't you think that deserves some kind of punishment?"

He has taken hold of my hair now drawing me back so I can look in his face and see the ice cold fury there. This I have feared all along, him being free of the restraining need for secrecy and able to reciprocate, because I'm well aware of the fact that despite the physical pleasure he may receive from our meetings he still deeply resents the means I used to make them come to pass, but I couldn't stop myself and as always my affinity for playing with fire has eventually gotten me burned. Oh well, but it was worth it!

I'm not sure what he means by punishment. On the one hand I wouldn't expect him to take it on his conscience to damn me to the fate of a whore, but considering his current emotional state I'm quite unable to predict what he'll do or not do.

When I say nothing and only regard him with careful indifference he asks again.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

To say? Not really, but the distracting sensation of his body pressed against mine, with the sheet slowly sliding downwards doesn't actually encourage any intelligent responses on my part. Does this nearness not affect him? No wait it does, I can clearly feel it through the rather thin layer of cloth, but he doesn't let it show. Yet. I shift in a subtle movement that lets me brush against him in a way which is certain to stimulate rather sensitive parts of his body. Of course he does not appreciate my impertinent teasing and hisses: "Stop that damn you!" But only softly, so she doesn't understand anything. And in this moment the reason for his previous support becomes clear to me.

He is still ashamed and still does not want anybody else to know about this, but if I were to be dragged back to the city it's guaranteed that a lot of people would notice and knowing the tendency to gossip most of them have in abundance, it wouldn't be long before everybody knew.

"Let go of me and I'll stop." I whisper almost inaudibly hoping that his reluctance to expose himself will help me get out of his tight grasp so that I might reach some means of escape. His reaction is quite disappointing in that regard though and all he does is to calmly ask the girl for a piece of rope to tie my hands at my back.

Now, sitting on the bed again, I'm worse off than before, not only am I still without a single shred of clothing, but in addition to that I have lost the free use of my hands. He has finally put on his pants and both are currently staring at me with matching expressions of dislike. Maybe it's time to start negotiations in earnest.

"Ok, what do you want?"  I ask resingnedly.

Better to find out what they have in mind before offering too much of my own volition.

"You will leave the city." He demands.

I nod. That was to be expected. To be honest I don't think it'll be much of a loss to part ways with its self-righteously boring inhabitants and go somewhere more exiting. Waterdeep should be interesting…

"You will make a personal confession to Alustriel and subject yourself to her judgement." Catti-brie says. I grimace at the thought, but even before I can nod again he shakes his head emphatically.

"No! You will not tell anybody!"

I have to keep back a smile. Wonderful, how his feelings work to my advantage!

"As you wish. I hope you're aware though that Burash is… uh let's say he's not very discreet and will probably let something slip sooner or later."

Maybe I can get them to dispose of that little problem for me. Yes, Do'Urden certainly looks worried now. Is he aware of my manipulation? He must have at least a little skill at reading the people around him, considering that he grew up in a city full of scheming, plotting and murdering individuals and is still alive to tell the tale. I'm sure it riles him, for even knowing what I'm doing he'll still realize that I'm right about my old friend.

"That will be of no concern to you." He says icily. So he does know. I incline my head in mock acquiescence and ask: "Will that be all then? For if you wish to deal with him I'd prefer to be at least a mile away when you do and he'll not stay out there indefinitely."

"What? No, you can't just let him go!" A cry of pure outrage from Catti-brie.

Unsurprisingly the thought of my leaving doesn't sit well with her.

"I could give you the means to find me later on." I suggest, but she only looks at me incredulously.

"I understand that you don't trust me, but be assured that despite what I have done I still honour the promises I make and I'm prepared to swear that I'll face you again if you should wish for me to do so." She remains unconvinced, so I add with a nod in his direction: "Ask him if you do not believe my words."

When she looks at him questioningly he sighs unwillingly, but states: "He has always kept his promises. That much is true."

Yes, I once promised to have you writhing under me didn't I? I have kept that one too. My eyes must have betrayed the course my thoughts are taking, because he shoots me a look of pure loathing.

"Very well. Now if you go and search through the brown bag there in the corner you'll find two matching bracelets. Take them out and bring them here."

I don't bother to add a polite "please" to my request knowing she'll do it anyway.

"These?"

Two simple, narrow silver bracelets are glittering in her outstretched hand.

"Yes. One is keyed to Drizzt and the other to me. They will enable any mage you might hire to find me, wherever I may be. I should warn you though, once put on they cannot be removed by any means except for a certain ritual performed jointly by both bearers."

My accompanying smirk leaves little room for speculation about the nature of this ritual and he stares at me strangely.

"You planned to put that on me all along?"

I shrug and grin as I see no sense in denying it.

"If the opportunity presented itself I would have. I never said I wouldn't try anything. Did you expect me to just let you walk away?"

He ignores my question, which was mostly rhetorical anyway.

"Will it have any undesired effects on me if I do not perform that ritual?"

Another shrug on my part.

"None besides the fact that I'll always be able to locate you too, should I wish to do so."

By now the dislike on their faces has been joined by growing anger, but I'm actually rather pleased with the current turn of events, as it is quite possible that presented with this opportunity to get back at me in a less compromising situation, he'll let me leave. What I will do when I have to confront him once again I have no idea, but there will be ample time in which to think and plan if only I can get away now.

Unfortunately I have spoken the truth when claiming that there's only one way of removing the bracelet. In the few weeks before this day I didn't have enough time to create anything more elaborate than this rather straightforward enchantment and therefore I'll not only have to live with the fact that he'll be able to trace me, but with the added necessity of another not so comfortable meeting as well.


	14. Gone

Disclaimer: Drizzt and his friends do not belong to me. I do not make any money by writing this.

Neven: Yep he's angsting, but don't worry I plan to have some kind of conclusion in the next chapter (I can't guarantee anything though:-)

Gone

Predictably Catti-brie is not happy with my suggestion and says: "You don't have to do this!"

just as he takes the bracelet from her and puts it on in one smooth, quick motion a determined look on his face. She glares at me in accusation, but doesn't protest when he moves to cut my bonds after roughly pulling the other bracelet over my wrist. Instantly I can feel the magic in the two pieces, connecting, binding and then the link is established. I think he feels it too, because I can see his eyes narrow briefly in suspicion at the unexpected tingle which runs through both our bodies.

From that point it is only a matter of a few silent, hurried minutes for me to put on my garments, grab my things and get out through the window leaving them to deal with a Burash who's guaranteed to be furious upon finding me gone. Being me I can't resist throwing the drow a last ironical smirk just before I vanish from sight.

In the alley next to the tavern I find the old shoe which I had deposited there, spelled to get me back to the city faster than Burash could ever manage, being as unprepared as he is. This fortunate circumstance will grant me the time I need to take some of the more important things from my rooms and then I'll leave what has been my home for the last six decades. Ah well, of course I cannot let my old friend keep the valuable book with all those tracing spells. I don't want him to come looking for me after all and he really should start warding his quarters properly.

After a last appreciative gaze over the beautiful spires and gardens I can see from my window I make use of a teleportation ring, which will take me back to another alley in Waterdeep. I leave no explanation or hint as to what might have happened. The people who matter know anyway.

The thought that they might be leaving the dirty tavern this very moment is incredibly amusing and I step out on the street with a wide grin on my face. That grin only widens when I think of the opportunities he inadvertently opened to me when he put the bracelet on.

Now that I have managed to get the books I need, I'll be able to change the enchantment in a manner more fitting to our situation. I still won't be able to remove the tracer, but since I've now got the chance to turn the next meeting into one with more favourable conditions for me I don't worry too much. I'll do what I can to obtain any advantage I may.

Let him come, I'll be prepared.

Only when you see him smirking do you fully realize what you have done and curse in a very uncharacteristic manner, which makes Catti-brie regard you with surprise before her expression turns back to one of uncomprehending sorrow.

"Why did you just let him leave?" She wants to know. "He has hurt you! I can see it, but I don't understand!"

And suddenly you can't bear her concern. You feel that you don't deserve it, that you have indeed betrayed her twice over once by not believing in her support and the second time by doing your best to distance yourself emotionally during the past weeks so it would be easier to leave her and live another life.

But the worst is that you still don't want her to know, that you would do almost anything to be able to turn back time and escape this moment! There is no relief in the knowledge that she won't despise you for your actions, because you still despise yourself.

You reacted to him, even in her presence, like you have never reacted to her, the one you know you love! And you do love her, don't you? Why then, why have you not been able to end this, to tell her from the beginning? Unable to face the unspoken questions in her face you turn towards the door, where the other mage is still waiting.

He takes only a second to realize what must have happened.

"You let him go?" He asks quietly and in his eyes you think you can see the tiniest spark of relief, but it's gone so fast you might have imagined it. What did Rashiel call him, old friend? Another one who has fallen under his spell? Probably not, he seemed so disgusted earlier that it can hardly be possible. From the look he is giving you now you can see that he doesn't understand either. How could he? You have only just started to understand yourself. Despite all internal worries your voice is calm and collected when you say: "Yes. As I said before, this is a matter between the two of us."

"But how will you…?"

"I'll know where to find him. Be assured that this will be settled."

You hear her sharp intake of breath when she realizes that you have no intention of telling him about the bracelet and before she can say anything you stop her with a warning look out of narrowed eyes. For a second you are surprised by your own coldness. When have you become so distant? She is hurt by your lack of trust you can tell by the teary glitter in her eyes, but it is not enough to change your feelings only to increase the guilt from which you do already suffer anyway.

"You will not tell anybody about this." You demand from both of them and only after you have received two reluctant and less than happy nods you relax slightly. If you leave now they'll have no time to ask questions to which you don't have answers, so you dress hurriedly while they watch in unhappy, insecure silence, not yet knowing what to say presented with your painfully clear and definite denial of any need for help or comfort.

"I need to deal with him on my own." You say imploringly. "Please do not interfere and let me do this."

What you need most now, is time to think and decide. Alone.

"But what are you going to do?"

In reply you can only shrug helplessly.

"I will think of something. I just need some time…" You trail off unsure of what to say.

"Don't get me wrong," Burash cuts in concern clearly showing on his face "but I think you should be careful. Rashiel can be extremely manipulative once he sets his mind to it and as I had to find out just now he can be quite ruthless too. Don't you think that…"

"No!" You snap at him, suddenly angry. "I will say it once again: Do not interfere with my affairs."

An instant later you notice with dread that you are suddenly holding a dagger in one hand and quickly put it away before you turn towards Catti-brie.

"I'm sorry. I will come back when I can."

Those are the last words you say and then you leave without so much as another glance backwards incapable of bearing their concerned presence any longer.

And now: REVIEW (I'm addicted to those little things:-)… pretty please?


	15. Tingle

Disclaimer: See last chapters

LadyJanelly: No real "next encounter" as of yet, but I'm working on it:-)

Neven: Eat all the dwarves? Wonderful idea! Where's your next chapter by the way??? I'm waiting puppy eyes Can I bribe you somehow?

Yumeng: I'm being evil leaving you with a cliff hanger, but better a short chapter than none at all:-)

Tingle

It takes six whole months before I can finally feel the telltale tingle on my wrist which alerts me to the fact that the drow must be looking for me. I nearly miss it though preoccupied as I am dealing with one of the less pleasant customers of the merchant in who is my current employer. The man seems to think himself cheated, which is quite possible considering the usual business tactics this merchant likes to apply, and has brought his own mage along to back up his angry tirade. I have no wish to waste my time by listening to him though, seeing that I'm familiar with the other mage and we both know I could beat him easily if things should progress to an actual fight I decide to simply silence the irritating man with a short spell that will leave him mute for at least two days, before closing the door in his face.

"You could at least pretend to listen to him Rashiel."

Ah my dear employer, afraid to face him, but concerned as always that he might loose a customer, even though I think this particular one has no choice but to come back eventually, as we're the only supplier for the goods he so desperately needs.

"You do not pay me to be polite to the likes of him." I reply shortly, already turning to leave and deal with the more pressing matter of the drow. As I walk out I can hear a resigned sigh and grin. He can occasionally be exhausting, but we get along quite well most of the time and as a bonus I don't have to make polite conversation with him.

Now, Do'Urden. I wonder what took him so long. Probably his tender conscience being at odds with the rest of him… hopefully he has made up his mind by now. I'm getting quite tired of the pointless "right or wrong" arguments he seems to need so much. Maybe I will use the muting spell on him too if he tries to argue again. It would serve him right.

I look for him in the scrying mirror, trying to find out where he is and my mood brightens considerably when I discover that he is apparently not only here in Waterdeep, but has also decided to come alone. This promises to be an interesting encounter! Especially bearing in mind the slight modifications I was able to make in the enchantment of our bracelets.

Apparently he has taken rooms in the Anvil and for a short moment I wonder how he might have persuaded them to rent out their rooms to a drow. It does not matter though I decide, as our meeting will be here where the highest measure of privacy can be ensured and not in some tavern like the last time.

I jot down a short message in which I suggest a meeting in a neutral area. In other words a disreputable tavern where nobody will look at us too closely, these things are just so convenient. From there we'll see how things develop.

The message gets send off with a servant boy. I never remember their names correctly, but I think this one may be called Kevin. I give him some small coins hoping it will be enough to keep him from showing the note to anyone who can read. I don't want my business spread around the whole city after all, even though nobody seems to care much these days. The unusually harsh winter keeps people occupied and otherwise huddled together around a fire, preferably inside their houses. Those who are not lucky enough to have a place for shelter one can often find as hard, frozen corpses strewn like litter along the road. At least they don't start to smell when they're conserved this way.

After four hours the boy is back with frost reddened cheeks and an excited glitter in his eyes. He even has an answer clutched in a gloved fist and bounces up and down, obviously quite pleased with himself, before I snatch it from him causing his expression to become one of disappointment when I send him away before I read it. Ah well he's already got more than enough to brag about. Telling his friends about his encounter with the drow should leave them impressed to no end. Either that or they'll call him a liar and laugh in his face.

Do'Urden surprises me by simply suggesting a meeting in his rooms at whatever time would please me. Does he have some kind of plan? I'm not sure if I should agree to this. Driven by my own craving to once again watch his enticing fight against submission, which has become increasingly urgent these past months I decide to go anyway.

Let him have a plan then. I've got one too and we'll see which one is better. There is of course the small possibility that he would give himself to me out of his own free will, but I'd be surprised to see him give in without any struggle at all. Hidden underneath that humble exterior is a considerable measure of pride I think, which he would have to overcome for something not more worthwhile than his own pleasure and while he may be prepared to sacrifice all pride, happiness or even his life for others at the first opportunity it is not his nature to do so only for himself.

Should I go now or wait? Does it matter? I have already risked death to get him in my bed, so why wait now? He could hold such power over me if he ever realized the true depth of my obsession with him or has he done that already? Is that the reason why he has come alone? For minutes I stand there wondering, watching the snow fall and mercifully cover the dirt of this city. Ah it will not do to uselessly turn this over in my head without any real knowledge. For good or worse I will go now.

That decision made I grab my thickly padded cloak and leave. I hate winter, this time when breath turns into little white clouds, the tip of your nose feels like it's going to freeze off any moment and the worst is that damnable cold, biting wind which somehow manages to penetrate even the most comfortable and warm clothes.

The snow is falling stronger and stronger now and I hope it won't become an actual storm, but from what I've seen of this city until now it probably will. This does of course nothing to improve my mood. Walking into an uncertain situation is not something I like much in any case, but doing so while I feel cold and stiff is even worse. No wonder he asked me to come to him, I think cynically as I wipe some snow out of my eyes, stepping outside in this weather is in my opinion akin to professing a desire for suicide.

By the time I reach the Anvil I'm nearly ready to kill somebody if they should try to keep me from warmth. No one does though and with a relieved sigh I shed my snow covered cloak.

"So you've come." Says a voice behind me.

Do'Urden.

"So you've been waiting." I reply in the same manner and turn around to face him.


	16. Almonds

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Neven: Slower than usual? I didn't actually. I just wrote more for "Blickwinkel" but since that one is in German you didn't profit from it:-) Ah well I didn't take too long with this chapter… no dingo yet, but I really think the idea is rather appealing. You would do illustrations??? (starts jumping up and down excitedly) And there I thought I was asking how to bribe YOU! I'm afraid I wouldn't do to well if I tried illustrating anything though, so I'll have to think of something else. Any requests?

Amber eyes meet lavender ones in the attempt to try and read his intentions. I'm a bit confused though by what I can see. There certainly is the familiar half suppressed desire, but he seems insecure about something. It may be the startling lack of his usual hatred that has caught me off guard. Has he forgiven me then? How interesting. But has he forgiven himself? I have no way of telling right now and I need to remind myself that I don't even know what exactly it is that he wants yet.

"Have you been forging ties with the Serpent these past months?" He asks with half hearted disdain, half looking away to escape the close scrutiny and I almost suspect he's trying to stall by making useless conversation. I'm close to just grabbing him, but restrain my urges and answer with a mocking grin.

"Me? Ties with a grey elf?" I ask running an openly hungry gaze up and down his slim body. "I have better things to contemplate."

In fact I have considered that very possibility, but in the end I've decided that this one has too many enemies for me to lead a reasonably long life in his service and thus made no move to establish contact. I have no whish to engage in idle chitchat and so I ask bluntly: "Why have you come?"

He is looking away. Again. Seemingly very interested in the few other patrons, who are doing their best to ignore us, or the decoration. Trying to gather his courage is he?

"I…" He hesitates.

"Yes?"

"You are not making this easier for me."

"Really?" I smirk. He looks so tempting like this, consumed by some inner struggle, nervously tugging a stray strand of white hair behind a pointy ear. Of course I will enjoy every second of it. "I'm so sorry."

This earns me a glare and a growled: "Fine. Let's go upstairs then."

That said he turns abruptly and stalks up to the upper level, leaving me to follow with raised eyebrows. A bit touchy today, are we Do'urden? Well, I don't mind as long as things continue in this rather promising fashion.

In spite of my increasing certainty about his intentions I hesitate briefly before following him through the door to enter the small, unassuming, but mercifully clean room. One can never be too careful. But I needn't have worried in this case, for as soon as the lock has clicked shut his hands rise to open the first button of his shirt. I see. What has caused this change of heart, I wonder and decide to put him to the test.

"Stop this." I say sharply.

He stares, his shocked expression almost comical and I have to work hard to keep up my cold mask of indifference. So he really does want to do this. He is not so skilled an actor that he could produce such an unfeigned picture of utter surprise on purpose and convince me with it.

"B-but… don't you… I thought that…"

Do I want to torture him further by forcing him into an explanation? The thought of watching him squirm is certainly tempting, but so is the notion of finally being able to touch that soft, black skin. Touch wins after a short internal debate and I step forward until there's only a hands breadth of air between us. I'll not ask any further questions. His reasons are his own and not my responsibility.

"Stand still." My low menacing tone leaves him shivering and silent, just as I intended. The predatory smile which is probably gracing my features right now should make my intentions more than clear. Let the games begin. Slowly I walk around him, circling him like a cat would do with helpless prey, making sure he can hear my steps as I leave his range of vision.

"Do you wish for me to touch you?" A seductive whisper.

When he only nods I grab the half opened collar of his shirt from behind harshly yanking him backwards so his back comes to rest against my chest.

"How much do you want it?" I want to know. Until he tells me I'll not lift a finger I promise myself. I nearly break this promise though at the sound of his soft moan.

"Tell me!" A sharp hiss.

"Please." It's a very soft plea, infused with desperation, but I guess it will do for now. I finally allow my fingers to tangle in the white mane, but not doing anything else yet, determined to make this a drawn out experience. He seems disinclined to follow my wishes in that point and turns around after a short time to tempt me into a kiss. Of course I can't withstand his offering and while I harshly claim his lips my hands slide up to divest him of the bothersome shirt. He seems a little surprised to find it gone when I scratch lightly down his chest, in a promise of what's still to come, leaving goose bumps in my trail. Not been paying attention have you Do'urden?

What a blessing that he has obviously decided to skip the usual moral discussion I reflect hazily, had I been forced to use that spell on him I wouldn't bee able to hear those rather interesting noises he's making now.

"Kneel." I snap suddenly, smirking when he does so his expression vaguely confused, but obedient nonetheless. Good! I take a step backwards and regard him. The usually sparkling eyes slightly glazed and fixed on my every move, is he aware that he is licking his lips now? My hand glides under my own shirt tantalizingly lifting the hem only a bit to reveal what I know to be velvety golden skin.

"Do you want to see more?" I ask softly, teasingly.

"Yes." He croaks hoarsely.  Ah no, that will not do! He has come to me and that means he can be made to ask nicely.

"Yes what?" I inquire with narrowed eyes, making him swallow once before he meekly repeats: "Yes please."

"Very well."

I proceed to undress in the most languid, deliberate way I can contrive, making him watch from the distance unable to do anything but kneel there until he is unconsciously biting his lips. By the time I am ready to drape myself invitingly on the bed he's twitching slightly, fists clenching and unclenching, but silent.

"Your turn drow."

The wicked gleam in his eyes tells me that he fully intends to match my efforts. Well, as far as I'll let him. It is truly a sight to remember. The scant light of only two candles fighting against the darkness of what has by now become a full blown snowstorm, flickers over the graceful angles of his limbs enhancing the contrast between skin and hair and in the end I enjoy every second of it, finding the sound of the howling wind outside to be strangely appropriate to this scene. Once there is nothing more to remove he comes to me, his body radiating warmth like a fire, the scent of arousal in the air, intoxicating to me like sweet wine.

I take the time to slowly relearn every single contour, every curve of him, first with my fingers and later with lips and tongue, taking immense satisfaction in hearing the stifled gasps and moans when he cannot hold them back any more. He has made some preparations I discover to my great pleasure, seeing a small bottle filled with what I assume must be oil, almond scented oil, as far as I can discern when putting it to good use a short time later.

"Take hold of the headboard." I murmur and watch delightedly when he does so without a seconds hesitation. Then I lean back withdrawing all contact which has him utter a low moan of protest that puts an evil smile on my face.

"No. Please!"

Kneeling between his parted legs I lean over him, still smiling so that only strands of my hair tickle his stomach, but nothing else. Deprived of sensation he begins to fidget, but wisely keeps his hands on the dark wood, like I told him to. I don't have to wait for long before he grows impatient and desperate.

"Rashiel. Please I beg you, do something!" He whines, wide eyed and panting.

That is rewarded by a single still oily finger stroking lightly upwards on the inner side of one trembling ebony thigh.

"And what exactly would you have me do?"

He glares at me through a haze of aching need resenting the fact that I would make him beg further.

"You know what I mean." Ah so there is still some little remnant of that moral reserve left, but not for long. Even tough it is hard for me to keep back when he is lying there, looking every inch like a delicious ripe fruit ready to be plucked, I do my best to appear calm and unfazed when I ask: "Do I?"

An exasperated groan follows my question.

"Take me! Damn you."

Ah, long sentences seem unmanageable in his current state I take it. Of course I'm only too happy to oblige in this case.


	17. Consent

Disclaimer: I don't own, never will

Neven: Well I don't know if this explains adequately what drove him to it, but we all do things we don't understand at some point:-)

Consent

What are you doing here, you ask yourself. You have come, sought him out and even asked that he meet you, but it seemed to make more sense then somehow than it does now. Or maybe it is only that you can see more clearly at the moment, satisfied, freed for the moment of those feelings of need and the craving for his touch. You can see now in the strangely lucid state the aftermath of your last union has left in your head, that in fact you have chained yourself even closer to him by giving in to your need and to you who doesn't like to be dependent on anyone this is a terrible realization. And still even realizing this you can't seem to turn away, lying instead on the bed, motionless, eyes closed to avoid facing the inevitable.

What will happen after this? Will he tire of you now that you have given in to him? Will he be bored when there's no struggle and leave you to deal with the shattered remainders of your conscience in painful solitude? It would hurt, you have to confess to yourself, to be cast away after making this concession, after revealing so much of your vulnerability. Why did you do it anyway? Why did you let him come so close, knowing perfectly well that he probably does not care all that much what happens to you.

"You still have not made peace with yourself."

And he can read you far to well! As usual the single, short statement is enough to disrupt any sense of calm which might still have been left somewhere in your mind.

"Why does this concern you so?" You ask tiredly weary of this kind of talk, but unable to let it pass. "You have what you've always wanted, why care about my peace of mind?"

A warm body shifting next to you, distracting contact of skin against skin, but not enough to make you loose your train of thought. Not yet.

"Don't you think I'd want for you to stay sane? Accept it fully and it'll be better for both of us, because while I may enjoy watching you suffer, I still know that you need some measure of inner balance to be able to live with yourself."

A hand gliding up over your abdomen, grazing one nipple, lightly, but hard enough to elicit a soft gasp from you.

"And you?" You ask him, more to say something, than out of interest, half trying to distract him from his activities, but at the same time hoping that he won't stop. "Do you regret what happened?"

An amused laugh, like silver bells in spring.

"No." It sounds final. He really means it then. "Sometimes I do miss the wonderful view though. Ah well you can't have everything I guess."

Another one of his strange statements. You are slowly beginning to wonder what you actually are to him. Loosing the position as one of Silvery Moon's higher mages to work for some nameless merchant is quite a drop after all and yet he doesn't seem to mind very much, content to have this instead. Does he place more importance on your meetings than on the prestigious position? Maybe he'll not cast you aside when all is said and done. Maybe you are of some significance to him. Does he need you like you seem to need him?

You've never dared to think in that direction during all those months you spent agonizing about the situation, but what if you are right? Would you be willing to try and create a new existence based on this?

You are surprised at the lack of resentment you feel at the notion. Your old life lies in shards and even if you went back to your friends, things could never be the same you are sure of it. Trust has been damaged too much on both sides. You are also becoming increasingly sure now that unlike them he would not only take you knowing who you are, how you are, but rather because of it, would he not? Why else would he take the risk of banishment, even death?  

Only time will show you decide, melting into a kiss, suddenly and unexpectedly content with this new approach, a strange feeling after such a long period of upheaval. Time will show.  

THE END

A/N: Ok I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I did with the writing! Feel free to review even if this has been finished for a year, I'll still appreciate it:-)

Thanks for the encouragement you all gave me during the actual process, it kept me writing. Really, it's funny what one short sentence in your mailbox can do to you:-)

Don't know if I'll do a sequel… haven't got any ideas yet.

We'll see


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